


you’ll be left in the dust (unless i stuck by you)

by michaelsgang



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence - Magic Realism, Head Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-26 01:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelsgang/pseuds/michaelsgang
Summary: Sean finds himself in a never ending cycle of dip, rinse, and repeat. He doesn’t know how much longer his brain can handle in the battle of the hues.





	1. your love would be too much

**Author's Note:**

> so yes this is total inspired by sean’s two goals last night. and yes i know he’s had a concussion before so let’s hope that this doesn’t like jinx us.

 He’s sitting down with his knees pulled up tight to his chest when he opens his eyes. The air smells like bleach and citrus; Sean stands. His steps echo awkwardly in the room, the ceiling above him reaching into an empty dark abyss. His eyes trace down along the black that bleeds onto tall white walls, blasted bright with ruby light.

There’s a tiny black dot in the center of the wall, seemingly miles away, with a sharp dark line protruding out from the bottom right of it. Sean takes three long strides and suddenly the dot expands as the wall rapidly approaches him. A circle is cut through the middle of the wall, a bright flashing sign floating right inside of it.

 ** _the beyond_** **_!_**

Sean blinks, giddiness rising in him as the line morphing into a tall ladder, leaning against the giant round window. Frozen in place, tiny white orbs fall toward the left, a spotty tail in their wake. Slowly, he climbs the ladder, shades of pink and purple and white dancing across his skin as he nears the hole in the wall.

“Sean!” He startles, rattling the ladder to tip forward with his weight and tossing him down the pit with thinking white lights. His scream is muted as he tumbles and abruptly —

 

His face gets smacked with a large palm leaf, annoyance pinching his cheeks. When his hand shoves it away, fluorescent liquid traces the palm of his hand. Carefully, he looks around the area, birds chirping and leaves rustling. There’s tree trunks broader than his shoulders, and plants brighter than the sun. Sean cautiously passes the neon colored plants, vibrant greens outline a curved path as he walks.

Something wet passes his bare ankles. He shivers. Electric blue stripes cover his shin and down. His sneakers dig into pitch black ground. He stumbles over a burnt orange branch.

“Kuraly?” He looks up in time as a lime green vine zips by, narrowly missing his head. Sean jumps, bumping into a crisp emerald shrub, that drips its sticky bright sap along the line of his back.

There’s a sharp crow, piercing his eardrums and when he tugs his hands away from the side of his head, Sean can’t decide if it’s more glowing liquid or blood. He doesn’t get to pick before there’s another screech and when he looks up there’s another shining lime vine—

 

Freezing cold dots pole and probe at his cheeks and neck and arms and knees. His eyes open to shimmering arctic blue lights staring back at him. His hand blocks the light but he tenses at the illusion in front of him. The dots turn into long strands of light, and Sean’s dragging his body to sit. He glances down at the sea of tiny dots swaiting around him.

As far as he can see, there’s a curtain of cascading fiber optics, illuminating the blackness around him. He shifts slowly, his exposed skin stinging with contact from the cool strands. Suddenly, a new sheet of luminescent candy apple red strings fall at the end of the box he’s standing in. Sean watches in fascination as his hand sticking out causes a tear in the uniform lines, the strands running across his palm and knuckles.

“Where are you?” The words echo and bounce off the strings, sending a shiver and a ripple around him. Sean looks up, a smile inching onto his lips as he reaches up to touch the reds and blues.

He grabs handfuls, and tugs. His stomach drops instantly as there’s a deep boom and the filaments are sharp and piercing as they —

 

Sean forward rolls down a silicone hill, barely landing before the long tunnel ahead of him. His feet plant before falling onto the roller-slide. The gray frame almost blends with the pit underneath the sides of the slide. All down the slide, Sean spots brightly painted cylinders- every neon yellow or blue or pink imaginable -varying in pattern until he can no longer see where the narrow tubing leads. 

“Come on Sean,” whispers up the slide and directly into his ear. He can feel the warm breath curling around his lobe, a sharp mint tickling his nose. Safety wraps around his shoulders, pushing him to lay on the slide, head first. Without blinking, Sean’s body is torpedoing down, flashes of light barely reaching the back of his eyes as he flies by. Down and down, left and right, his body moves along the cylinders, pushing him further into his wonderland of light.

Up ahead, there’s a firetruck red sign, glaring and obstructive.

**STOP !**

Fear grips around his throat as he throws his arms out in front of him. His speed seemingly increases; scarlet, amber, turquoise, and lemon twist his vision, filling his mind with bright white light as his body —

 

He stares up at triangles, outlined forest green with crimson circles inside. Sean’s lazy eyes follow the diamond shaped pairs all along a curved ceiling. Some are traced with tangerine, or filled with tiny triangles and their blooming strawberry and honeydew rays.

Sean slowly sits up, suddenly aware of the weight on his head. This time, his hand comes back with plum slick, and he’s wiping it across his black shirt with a muted sigh.

The ceiling is higher than he expected when he stands, fingers struggling to touch the triangles. He walks toward the nearest wall, his fingertips following the line of banana light that connects with a seafoam line from the adjoining triangle. Mesmerized, Sean notices the lights reflecting onto his skin, all sorts of maroon and moss and turquoise, lining his forearms. His veins glow, shining eggplant that disappears up into his bicep and his shoulder.

“Be careful-” Sean presses the triangle plate under his palm in surprise. For a second, his heart pounds, rushing neon crimson toward his heart, just before the plates start to flash a primary light. His temperature skyrockets as the light in the tunnel get brighter and brighter and brighter until he can’t —

 

There’s the sound of water lapping smoothly around him. Just underneath, there’s a light clinking, like wine glasses from last—. Sean blinks his eyes open to soft yellow light. The sky’s color is beige, with fluffy gray clouds floating above him. His eyes finally find the full moon, and he traces the beam of light cutting through the darkness. In that stream, he can almost touch the twinkling little stars, like glittering falling through the sky.

He looks down, his neck cracking after almost hours of staring up at the heavens. Sean cracks a smile at the lapping around around his ankles. His shoes are gone, but he can’t feel the sand under his toes. The blue tinted gray water mix with irregular pieces of clear ice hides most of what he wanted to see. 

Ignoring the cool glass, crunching and clashing and clinking, Sean steps further into the water. It must be freezing, but he can’t feel a damn thing. The light glitters and shines and reflects into his eyes, trying to deter him from his path. But there’s the moon, shining so beautifully, guiding him deeper and deeper into the chilly water.

Glass and ice and water reach his ribs now, his bare feet slipping over the loss of solid ground. Sean smiles, the weight on his head lessening as he listens to the moon’s call. 

“Stay with me, Sean.” He tenses, even as the pull from the moon is relentless. The voice doesn’t echo this time, shouted right into his ears, pushing him back to shore. He stumbles, the pressure returning with full force as he strays from the path.

“Sean, please.” Sean shakes his head, something like panic seizing his stomach as the water laps harder now, looking waves in the distance. Something drops from the sky, maybe his heart, and splashes the ice and water, soaking his face and shoulders. Water droplets cling to his eyelashes as his teeth clatter; he’s freezing.

His fingers shake as he reaches for the sky blue object, shining even as the moon’s light gives up on him and shines elsewhere. Sean blinks, gripping the clear blue item tightly in his palms.

Sean stares at the halo, warmth and love and safety running up his arms like —

Fingers tap along the flesh of his knuckles. He can’t see, it's pitch black, but he can feel every part of his body, humming and singing at the touch. He can hear a rhythmic beeping to his left, but he’s more concerned with prying his eyes open. At first, the sudden influx of light burns and sends bile rising up in his throat. Then-

“Shit,” the fingers are gone and there’s some rustling. Sean forces himself to blink again, and finally, he can squint. The room is darker, but he can make out the blinding white around the door, the highlighter yellow from the lamp, the peaking cheyenne and tangerines behind the shitty shades, vibrant green from the monitor, and the charged blue from Danton’s eyes.

Sean blinks once and the colors are gone, replaced with dull grays and whites and blacks. His head aches a bit.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Dan mutters, his hands clicking the lamp off without Sean even needing to say so. The pressure on his skull eases.

Sean taps at his throat twice, watching as his friend puts the pieces together. The blonde nods silently and grabs the half empty water bottle on the side table and unscrews it open for him. Only when it’s empty does Sean even attempt to speak. How long has he been out?

“Head hurts. How long?” Sometimes, he’s a man of few words. Danton’s eyes flash a electric blue again, but he doesn’t think too hard on that. The man looks down at Sean’s shoulder.

“A week. Concussion.” Dan has deep bags under his eyes, concern right there. He blinks and finally looks back up at Sean, his hand coming up to touch his temple. Before Sean could even consider dodging the touch or questioning it, the dull ache behind his eyes suddenly lifts completely and he sinks into the bed. His body becomes boneless, the pain relief better than any goal, any win, any fucking orgasm possible.

“You should get some rest.” Sean doesn’t bother mentioning how he’s been asleep for a week. Instead, he lets his subconscious take over, his mind blinking and whining back on, fresh and ready with unimaginable hues.

 


	2. crash at my place, baby you’re a wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> his mom might take the first flight out of langley; dan thinks sean’s worth it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much longer than the first chap whoops. i really wanted to follow the style of the firs chap but i also had to explain what was going on. 
> 
> highkey recommend listening to better love by hozier because it’s the only thing that pushed me to complete this monstrosity. sorry it took so long ha

Before Danton can open his eyes, he can feel the impending sense of doom. It gathers deep in his gut, swirling and tangling like a dust devil in the hot sands of a desert. Growing and growing until all the breath in his body is taken and sucked up into the whirlwind and Danton is left gasping.

He jumps up into a seating position, with his eyes ripping open. Heavy and hot pants leave his dry lips. His eyes dart around him, soaking in the miles and miles of sand.

“What the fuck.” No sound falls from his mouth– or maybe he can’t hear himself. Dread falls from the storm in his abdomen as Danton’s shaky fingers grasps the warm sand. It’s dark, with artificial white spots hanging from the sky. The more he looks, the more his heart speeds up. Scattered in the vast expanse of sand, plastic palm trees stick out like ominous figures. The blue and purple undertones burn his eyes.

He stands, grains of sand cascading down from his clothes like a waterfall. Danton nearly trips over a plastic rock, large and made entirely of styrofoam. Up ahead, a pay phone tilts over to the right dangerously. It’s cyan neon _Phone!_ flickers and blinks and buzzes, daring Danton to try and work it. Unfortunately, he falls for the bait and yanks it off the stand. More sand falls from the speaker.

“Hello?” His muted voice leaves him at a standstill with the phone. Neither of them make a sound. Groaning inaudibly, Danton drops the phone and watches it clatter nosily against the rusty metal. Dark sand puffs out once more. Squinting, he looks around once more. He doesn’t have to look for long because only a few meters away, there’s a glowing vending machine. What catches his eye is the six foot two body behind the glass. He could probably spot Sean miles and miles away.

The sand makes it difficult to run toward him. Plastic trees continue to sprout in his path, and rocks rise from the depths below, shaking sand off their surfaces. It’s possible that the hot pink and sky blue machine keeps moving away from him and Danton is just stuck in a never ending run.

Sand kicks up into his eyes and forces him to stop. He might cry out of pure frustration as he rubs his eyes raw. He needs to get to Sean—

In an instance, he’s tumbling forward and banging his head off the glass. The sound booms and echoes across the desert, startling him and the trees alike. A ringing goes off in his head, but he’s shaking his head. If it were possible, even more sand flies from his blond hair. The second Danton gets them out of here, he’s placing a ban on any beach vacations.

There’s another bang and his neck snaps up to the glass. Sean’s awake, his eyes wide and voice muffled. The sense of doom quiets and vanishes. The hardest part of this whole maze will be to find Sean and get him out. At least, his mom always made it sound like the Induce.

He scrambles up and reaches to touch the glass, nerves bubbling under his skin. This is all his fault. Pushing his fear down and into a closet, Danton focuses on the vending machine. There’s no way to break it open, not with plastic trees and styrofoam rocks.

Sean knocks on the glass again, and he looks to where he’s point over his shoulder. Danton sees the half empty Coke bottle sticking out of the sand. The fake flowers sprouted around it nearly has it hidden, but the change inside the bottle reflects a beam right into his eyes. The fucking Induce.

The bottle comes out easier, to which he’s grateful, and he’s unscrewing it as fast as he possibly could on his way back to Sean. Inside of the machine, he stands right up against the glass, his breath fogging it up. His heart speeds up again. All his fucking fault.

The change is heavier than Danton expected as he dumps it out of the bottle. The crashing of the coins falling on each other sounds like metal pipes crashing against one another. He hisses silently and grabs the first two and shoves them into the slot.

 _More! More! More!_ The tiny screen screams at him. He curses and keeps shoving more coins until the bottle runs out. The two of them freeze, staring at each other in terror. How was Sean supposed to get out? Maybe his mom was right. He went too far on trying to heal Sean that he forced the Induce and now they’re trapped here.

 **F L O W E R S** Sean spells out in fogged glass, a little shrug following. Danton scans the sand again for bushes. There’s another bush of blooming flowers by the pay phone. Adrenaline lines the veins in his legs as he rushes over to the beam from the half empty Coke bottle. The bottle is heavier this time, even if there’s the same amount of change inside. Brushing it aside, Danton races back and wastes no time adding the coins in. Sweat swirls around the inside of his palms but he doesn’t stop until the bottle empties again.

“Fuck,” he tosses the bottle to the side. The mocking screen keeps begging for more coins, but Danton can’t see another rose bush. Maybe the trees? They appear fine to climb and when he touches—

Touch. Danton has been gifted with healing touch and he’s trapped in the Induce. _Touch_. He drops to his knees, staring up once at Sean, praying to every god. He’s envisioned this scene before, Sean’s twinkling Persian blue eyes staring back down at him, but he never thought he’d be _here_.

Opening the cool plastic of the slot, Danton wiggles his hand in. Just a single touch is all he needs, slipping his eyes close to focus. It starts as a bundle of sparklers at the base of his spin and it fizzles all along his veins to reach his fingertips. It never hurts.

The second their skin makes contact, there’s a flash of light from behind the glass. He can’t think to move before a body falls and drops on top of his. There’s an audible pop, like a balloon under a buzzing fluorescent bulb, or the distant firework cracking under the cover of night.

Danton can hear Sean’s sharp exhale right in his ear; he can feel the warm breath brushes against the shell. The electric cyan that fills his eyes reflects across Sean’s and he’s never felt the inappropriate urge to kiss him more than in that moment. It’s like the times on the ice after Sean scores and Danton wants to pull him close and hold on. Or the times at his apartment, and they’re flushed too tightly that he can feel Sean breathing. Those times don’t compare.

Sean’s rolling off of him, taking his breath with him. Danton is left staring up at the displaced dark sky and its fake stars. He frowns. Long cylinders make up the sky, reminding him of the rafters at the rink. The stars around round and hanging like light bulbs. They start to drop, moving slowly like giant glaciers.

“Sean!” He shouts, his hands barely reaching to grab his head before the first pole reaches them.

 

The next time he wakes, his stomach is empty but his body buzzes. Sweat lines his skin, bare and exposed of clothed and hidden. The cool tiles under him make him shiver. He blinks his eyes open, this time taking his time to sit up. The room is smaller this time, dark walls forming the sturdy perimeter. Deep forest green plants cover the walls. Golden Pathos extends its shamrock green leaves like a dainty finger point at him. Vines and fat leaves, small potted plants, and rows of bushes.

Splitting the room directly in half stands floor to ceiling windows. English Ivy dangling from the ceiling tickles his ears and shield his vision. Broadleaf Lady or maybe Bamboo Palm rise tallest of the plants, and Danton is momentarily distracted. His mother used to make tea to ease his father’s heart burn, but he learned that it was the thought that counted; her soothing hand stroking his dad’s neck is what actually healed.

More small trees and branches try to hide the other side from view. The pear green from the Boston Fern invites him to stand. Lining the edge of the ceilings, bright violet bulbs gleam eagerly back at him. Lavender mist floats from the Chinese Evergreen guarding the bottom row of windows.

Behind the these windows, Danton can see Sean in a seated position, staring blankly at the white tiles beneath them. He looks younger in the pale orchid light, enough to strike doubt in his gut.

“Kuraly?” He can hear himself this time, and Sean can too. He snaps from his daze and looks up at him, older and normal. As normal as he could in the Induce.

It’s still Biblical in the way that Sean looks up at him like Danton’s God Himself.

“There’s a door over there.” Sean nods behind him, and he notices the sharp juniper vines wrapped around his wrist, the skin red and angry underneath. Danton tried not to jump at the chance at healing him. There’s a clear set of rules in the Induce. Touching leads to the next level.

Danton traces the peaking Lilyturf toward to the far right corner, where the glass door stands. Position Ivy grins menacingly at him, forcing his body to still. Is that what’s wrapped around—

“There’s Poison Ivy over here.” Danton wants to punch something. The Induce never gives an easy way out. Carefully, Danton eyes the edge of the door lined with more leaves than he thinks is possible. He doesn’t want to inspect the other leaves because the results will disappoint him. Instead, he reaches for the closest potted plant, the basil and pine leaves shaking. Muttering an apology, Danton raises the pot and brings it down to smash it over the door handle.

It breaks into tiny brown and moss cubes, bouncing off the door handle and onto the tiles. Dejection drags his shoulders to the ground. The door remains intact and the handle winks a flash of magenta.

“It doesn’t burn too bad, Danny.” There’s a trail of amusement following Sean’s words. He’s turned his body around to face Danton with an easy grin. He sighs and reaches for the door handle. He might have been gifted with healing abilities, but it doesn’t mean shit when he can still feel pain. The Induce follows no rules, meaning the Ivy burns to touch. Danton grits his teeth and forces the door open and brushes by with straight lines of burning fire across his bare arms from the sharp edges of the leaves.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Sean raises a brow, a small grin tugging at his lips. Danton can’t help but roll his eyes. He’s careful to avoid touching him as he drops to sit in front of him. The level will end the second they touch, but he probably should explain.

“I’ve been healing you during your coma, but I think I might’ve gone too far and brought us here.” He doesn’t mention the levels they have to cross before they can wake. Sean opens his mouth to ask another question. Danton grabs his Ivy covered wrists before he could speak, and lets the vibrant plum flash of light blind him momentarily.

 

The lounge reminds him of a video game. The pink and purple undertones are bright enough to hurt until he’s blinking away tears. High ceilings that stretch for miles until it turns into a black hole, endless and infinite. The interior design reminds him of a life size _Barbie Dream_   _House_ : all shiny plastic and echoed terrors.

There’s heavy footsteps suddenly, forcing him to sink further into the fake leather couch. The screech from his plastic shorts startles him. Everything feels fake, far too bright and reflective and pristine.

“Danny?” The voice cuts through the air and terrifyingly, he watches the words name in neon red letters float around in the air. He can’t see Sean anywhere in the room, but the voice was close enough for him to reach out and touch. When he stands up too quickly, the floor turns to jello and he’s stumbling over the wobbling floor.

“Danny over here.” It pops up from behind him, with the floating letters jumbling around before slowly disappearing. He turns around quickly but still no sign of Sean. He just stares straight at the open shades on the window, showing the pulsing candy apple red sun against azure blue sky. Staring at the sun makes his eyes burn and fear build deep in his gut. He looks away and the pain and fear falls away.

“Where are you?” His question is answered when he looks toward the right and spots the receptionist’s desk. The bubblegum round desk is empty and tidy. But he frowns at the giant monitor sitting on the counter, facing him. The old flamingo pink machine whirls to life. The static screen blinks awake to broadcast a grainy and fuzzy image. Sean frowns on what appears to be a sunny beach. Danton steps closer as he notices the maya blue cheetah print shirt, fitting and tucking over Sean’s broad shoulders. There’s a matching pair of shorts reaching his mid thigh, a sandy brown belt wrapped tight around his waist.

Danton doesn’t laugh, but he smiles fondly at the gelled side part of Sean’s hair. The Induce has a sense of humor.

“This makes you Barbie bud.” He does laugh this time and touches the screen: his hand meets a flaming hot screen. He jumps back, squinting at his scarlet palm. All humor aside, he fucking hates this. The moment they’re out, Danton is having a long talk with his mom.

“Wardrobe change?” Sean points to something over to his right. Danton cranes his neck, finding the rack of shiny plastic clothes in the corner. Sighing, he walks over to grab the sleek metal of the rack. He drags it back to stop in front of the computer screen. Danton glares at the colorful outfits, and they sparkle right back. When he tries to grab the first strawberry lemonade Hawaiian shirt on the rack, it vanishes and replaces his own shirt.

“Looking hot, Danny.” He rolls his eyes and presses his hand against the screen. It burns. The cycle starts like that, Danton touching a shirt and pressing his hand on the screen, and it burning him. He’s growing frustrated as Sean laughs behind the scalding glass. He finally reaches a glossy electric blue swim trunks. Staring at it blankly, Danton refrains from throwing it. He taps it then faces the screen again. His hand finally phases through and disappears into the grainy television world. Sean steps closer and reaches. Danton doesn’t care if he has to complete the rest of the levels in the swim trunks, he’s just happy it worked. The flash of light smells like cherry soda.

 

The sound of buzzing and birds wakes him this time. His legs are immersed in slick neon balls of light. For as far as he can see until stark black lines mark the edges the pool, these tiny balls fill the pool. He has little idea how deep it goes, but he has a feeling it’s deep and endless.

Outside of the pool, the walls are made up of shrubs of leaves. Bright and large neon signs are shaped into seafoam leaves or watermelon flamingos or carrot  butterflies. He gets lost in the shimmering light filtering into his eyes all around the room. This might be his favorite level. There’s not much besides the ball pit and neon signs, meaning it might be the hardest level.

Danton shifts forward and falls into the pool. The liquid stains his skin electric blue and mixes with luminous tangerine. He grins as he inspects his wet hand. The blues and oranges twirl around his palm, bright and beautiful.

“You done over there?” His neck snaps up to catch the midnight blue irises. They’re tiger orange lines under Sean’s eyes like eye black during the Winter Classic. He wants to reach out and hold his face and smear the phosphorescence all over Sean’s body until they’re soaked and covered head to toe in paint.

He doesn’t bother to reply as Sean dives into the pool. He comes back up with streaks of orange in his hair like terrible highlights. Danton can’t stop imagining the taste of his lips.

A part of him doesn’t want to end this level, not when it looks like _this_. It’s just the two of them and Sean is safe here with him. There’s no stress about injuries or point streaks or broken hearts. Just Danton and Sean and the vast creativity of their linked minds. Danton doesn’t have to worry about discreetly touching Sean when the man’s injured. He doesn’t want to have a heart attack every time someone catches him staring after Sean.

Repressing those thoughts, Danton reaches closer and touches his shoulder. There’s no flash of light or trace of numbness. They’re still there. He knew this was too easy. The two of them share a look and begin to look around the room. They’ve been through so many of those levels, he can’t even begin to recollect them. It’s become a blur of color and light.

“I have no idea.” Sean wasn’t even restrained this time. Danton looks back at him, tracing the thin lines of blue and orange along his cheek and neck. The soft black cotton of his shirt wraps around his shoulders like Saran wrap. Paint twists and twines in the material. He can see the shape of his hand on his shoulder and feels the deep desire tighten in his stomach.

Sean tilts his head down slowly and looks back at him, his eyes dark. His breath catches in his throat. The two of them are so close in the near darkness. They’re only illuminated by the phosphorescence and the signs. It’d be simple, easy even. Danton could just wade closer, pushing the balls away, and reach and cradle Sean’s face like he wants to. The older man’s eyes might slip shut and Danton could bring their faces closer.

He could, but he lacks that kind of confidence.

Sean shrugs and starts to mess around with the dripping plastic balls. He tosses one in the air and lets it fall back in the space between them. They watch the ball break into smaller balls of light. It sparks some laughter in his chest, forcing the ache to take a back seat.

They spend the time tossing balls up and watching them fall back down and breaking apart. Sean’s laughter feels like the healing he’s always needed. Danton has no idea how long they spend doing that. He’s laughing hard enough to feel tears stinging at the corner of his eyes.

“All right try again.” Sean’s closer this time, looking down at him with a lazy grin. His hand is wrapped loosely around his bicep, like the tables have been flipped. Danton shakes his head lightly but he can’t seem to get rid of the floating feeling. He focuses on channeling everything he’s got. This is the last level, he’s sure of it.

But when he touches his bare wrist, nothing happens. Disappointment doesn’t have a second to rest before Danton is roughly pressing his palm against Sean’s forearm. Nothing. His bicep, _nothing_. He uses two hands and still not a single flash of light. He’s smearing paint all over Sean’s body but not at all in the way that he wants it.

“Danny, just let me try something.” Sean’s hands tingle his wrists when he grabs them. Danton stares at them for a second before catching the flash of electricity in his eyes. He feels raw and vulnerable. He nods.

It’s Sean who cradles his face, his fingers spreading wide to press small cobalt and pumpkin ovals along his neck and cheeks. The room brightens, just enough for him to notice. His breath stills in his throat, even as his lungs scream for oxygen. The Carolina Blues reflecting in their eyes disappear behind closed eyelids.

The explosion of light occurred gradually as their lips meet in the fluorescence of their minds. The hum from the electricity fills his ears as his fingers tangle in the dark material of Sean’s shirt. His mouth heals the scarred tissue of his heart, like no medicine or gift can. It had been Sean after all, the object of his affection and patient of his healing, that would complete the remaining level.

 

Danton knew that it was bad when Sean went flying into the boards, his body wild and out of his control. He remembers watching from the bench, as Sean raced back to rescue the puck from icing, and all too quick, how number twenty one threw his weight into the cross check, how Sean’s head slammed directly into the board.

He’s never wanted to vomit more than in that moment. Motionless. Lifeless. Sean laid in a heap.

Danton likes to sit close to Sean for like a few reasons. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, because he can’t afford to in the league. They sit next to each other on the bus or plane or– maybe when they’re all squeezed tight in the back of someone’s car and Sean grins with his broad shoulders tucked under Danton’s chin.

After a game, Danton pretends to be stretching when he kicks his bare ankles out to accidentally bump against Sean’s. He doesn’t move until he sees the red spots on his ribs disappear and Sean agrees to hang out instead of seeing the trainer.

On the bench, Danton takes his gloves off and starts to draw a dumb play on his palm. Sean gives him shit for like five seconds but then grabs his wrist and corrects the play with his fingers tracing along his sweaty palm.

“Do you never pay attention during practice?” Sean would smile, the two of them still holding hands. Well holding wrist, but _details_. Danton just needs to get a hand on him.

 

Sean rises on the seventh day, not quite what the Lord predicted.

“You’re an angel.” Sean gasps when he wakes the second time. His blue eyes barely open before the words tumble like a drum of thunder from his mouth. More than in the past week does Sean look alive, like the man before the game. Before his concussion. Danton tries not to crumble under the weight of relief.

“Sure,” he offers, slowly easing his hand from the clammy temples to Sean’s wrist. If he’s uncomfortable- whether because if the touch or the pain –he doesn’t mention anything. Instead, Sean tries to sit up, his cloudy blue eyes opening wide. His irises are blown wide from the darkness of the room. Danton wants to cry.

“Shut up-” He cuts himself off by coughing roughly, his shoulders shaking with the effort. Danton doesn’t hesitate before pushing him back, guiding his exhausted body against the bed. He doesn’t focus on the easing of his taunt frame, any lingering pain washing away with his touch.

Danton wants to touch and touch until Sean can’t remember what pain feels like.

When he finally convinces him to lie back down, Danton notices how much Sean keeps staring at him. Awe and something a little dangerous swim in his eyes, almost taunting Danton to take a step into foreign waters. There’s nothing he wants to do more than dive into those murky depths, to surround himself completely in what is Sean.

Something like desperation inches close to his heart; he pushes it away as he sits back down.

“I dreamt about you.” It’s brutally honest and it punches him deep in his gut. Sean barely has a filter at the moment, but Danton knows he says it on purpose. They might not need to talk about what happened in the Induce.

And it’s practically written in the stars how much he means to Danton.

“Yeah?” Sean’s still staring, like his face could hold the answers to everything. Instead, Danton focuses harder on his hand wrapped around his wrist and gets Sean to loosen up completely and fall back into a light sleep. Sean needs just something to get him cleared from the hospital today.

 

Neither of them talk about any of it when Sean is cleared. It takes another four days for the front office to announce that he’s back on the ice, but Danton’s breathing before then. He can’t sleep for the first night that he isn’t in the hospital getting his ass kicked out. It’s hard to shake off the habit when he’s so used to the crappy chairs and echoed silence. He has Sean’s coma slack face engraved in his brain.

So he watches; his blue eyes sorting through the crowd of black and gold, or drifting over bare and flushed skin, of glancing across a booth. He notices the pinched look Sean gets when the whistle rings sharply through the air, or the shaky fingers pressing against his eyelids when Marchy argues loudly with Torey in the locker room.

It takes him another day to get his hand back on Sean. It’s been hard to catch the man these days. But when he finds him still changing after practice, slow to pack and sluggish to stand, Danton launches.

“Hey man.” His knuckles tingle a little when Sean gently completes the fist bump. He can’t tell if it’s because of his gift or Sean; the man makes him think about that a lot.

“Wanna watch a movie at mine’s?” And it’s so easy to fall into a rhythm, to press as closely as he can. He’s built these careful walls around himself to protect him from Sean’s storm. The love he feels keeps pouring into his touch, fueling the freak of nature he really is and healing Sean with its intense effects.

Danton can’t stop touching and reasons that it’s healing.

 

There’s some other guys in the league, he thinks. Guys who can read his mind, guys who can make him feel afraid of the puck for ten seconds so he gives it up easily, or guys whose fists burn against his cheek. It’s never big cheating, because there’s always a gifted ref in the ice, watching that shit. Not everyone knows so Danton doesn’t make a big deal about it. He’s a quiet guy who just wants to play hockey and heal his teammates.

“Can I try something?” Sean is fucking huge, crowding him in his own kitchen like the worst guest known to man. Danton blinks slowly, and wills his brain to catch up to speed and to stop staring at the older man’s broad shoulders. It takes him a minute.

“Sure.” He immediately regrets his because Sean’s grabbing _his_ wrist. It’s like someone has flipped their roles, like someone decided it’ll be hilarious to have Danton be the one under the microscope, the one getting poked and probed.

It’s different though. Sean hasn’t ever shrugged off his touch, almost like he can feel the magic licking through his skin, embedding itself deep in Sean’s veins to follow the blood flow to the source of pain. Like he wanted Danton to touch him, regardless of the magic.

Sean’s hands are firm as he guides Danton’s closer to him. His fist clenches around nothing until finally, _finally_ , his cold fingertips graze against Sean’s temples. Sean keeps pulling like the ghost of a touch isn’t enough and he doesn’t stop until his clammy palm presses against the left side of his face. Fingers rub against the short blonde hairs and the heal of his hand cradles stumbled cheeks. Danton is afraid to breathe. He fears he might wake from this fragile dream.

If Danton were to go by his scale that he used as a kid, he’d be at a three. His touch is always dialed up to five with Sean, maybe higher if it’s after practice or a game. His scale stops at ten, and because of his injury, Danton figures he must’ve moved past it. Using too much at once must have triggered the Induce.

“When I broke my nose, did you-”

“The trainers knew before I could try. It would’ve been suspicious.” They don’t need to talk about it; Sean gets him like that.

But it’s not like Danton is that hard to figure out when Sean’s in his presence. It’s probably sad how he becomes like putty when Sean steps into his field of vision. Danton wants to laugh himself at his foolishness to believe that he could ever step back from the light that Sean has casted on his life.

The man nods, even though something flashes over his face as he releases him. Danton presses his fingertips a little deeper and exhales. The tension in Sean’s shoulders ease instantly and a dopey little smile reaches his lips.

“That’s pretty sick.”

 

The season progresses and Sean keeps looking at him. Again, Danton feels like he’s body swapped. Sean watches him at practice or on the plane or at his apartment. No one has said anything about it, but Sean knows about the magic running in Danton’s veins. Like he knows his really big and sad crush on him.

Eventually Sean runs into a door. Like usual, Danton’s keeping his normal tab on him, like some stalker and mother hen hybrid that’s more concerning than not, and watches the whole thing play out. One second Sean’s half dressed in his gear, the next he’s laughing and walking, and finally he’s ramming into the locker room door and cursing.

Danton calmly makes his way over as the room tenses. The hairs on the back of his neck raise as Sean’s hands fly to his mouth, pain written in his tight body. His hand is outstretched in an instance, reaching to grasp his sweat soaked shoulder.

 **Ten! Ten! Ten!** Maybe he’s fifteen years old again, anxious and terrified, channeling his heart and soul into healing his dad’s cut. If the scale were a real tangible item, the meter would keep moving and the glass would crack and the whole machine will explode under the pressure. His dad is in pain and bleeding–

“Holy shit!” Sean straightens up like something had pricked him. His eyebrows get lost in his hairline but Danton’s watching him ridiculously fond.

“I felt that. The-” His mouth clamps shut as his pale blue eyes filter around the room. No one’s watching anymore, despite his outburst. Because the story line is always the same with them and no one wants to watch Danton make heart eyes at their teammate.

Sean’s hands scramble to catch his hand, and all but yanks it toward his mouth. It’s split open, red and raw, and they both cringe when his palm makes contact with the wound. It’s disgusting.

“It doesn’t work like that man.” But Danton doesn’t make moves to pull his hand away. Something warm rushes out of him and into Sean, but the man will never know what it is.

But Danton knows by now how long it takes to heal a cut as simple as this and forces him to let go. Behind his palm rests an untamed smile, wide and blinding and free from injury that it makes his heart pound and pound from behind his rib cage.

“But it _works_.” Danton nods and pulls away. Before he could make back to his locker, a hand grips tightly around his arm to stop him. His brows furrows as he catches Sean’s gaze. The man is smiling knowingly, but doesn’t offer an explanation as he tugs Danton outside of the locker room, the two of them still dressed in gear.

“Sean—” His words fall to deaf ears. No one hears them as suddenly he’s completely silenced by a pair of lips sliding against his own. It’s like he’s thrown back into the Induce, kissing Sean like his life depends on it. Here lacks the beautiful world of color around them, but Danton can take what he’s given. This time around, he’s awake long enough to feel Sean’s hands carding through his hair.

They pull apart slowly, breaths mingling as he leans impossibly closer to Danton. It makes him feel lightheaded.

“This is the last time you use your magic and _not_ kiss me.” He whispers, firm in the way he gazes right into Danton’s eyes. It’s not like it would be hard to convince him otherwise.

”Does that mean,” he pauses, ignoring the childish blush on his cheeks. He feels like he’s back in high school, stuttering his way through asking a girl out. The only peace he feels is seeing the same shy smile on Sean’s face. 

“We should have dinner together. Like on a date.” He gets out, proud that he sounds more confident that he personally feels. It’s just Sean. Who has expressed two times now that he wants to kiss Danton. 

He rolls his eyes, almost too fondly to be funny. “Yeah, man. We should’ve a _long_ time ago.” Danton wants to sigh and take back the offer. He doesn’t because he’s far too glad that he and Sean are finally on the same page. It took a concussion and a fun trip to the Induce, but completely worth it. His mom might take the first flight out of Langley for sharing family secrets, but he’ll figure it out later. 

He’s got a date to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing! It felt like a research paper half the time. Sorry if things sounded redundant but there’s not many words in the English language to describe the same shade of neon blue lol. 
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a request in my inbox @ nhlroux on tumblr! I’m always looking for prompts for these two (or any ship for that matter)!

**Author's Note:**

> i’m kinda in love with this au. i have a hundred ideas of what i’m gonna do next, but i would love to hear any input or your theories! thanks for reading
> 
> tumblr: twopointroux


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